Drabbles and Shorts (Part Three)
by CatLikesTea
Summary: My entries for year 3 of the Houses Competition
1. Freak School

**House: Ravenclaw**

 **Year: Three**

 **Category: Standard**

 **Prompt: Lily and Petunia**

 **Word count: 1502**

 **Year One**

"So how was the freak school?"

These were the words Lily Evans was greeted with as she entered her living room for the first time since the Easter holidays. Petunia was sat on the sofa at the opposite end of the room, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyebrows furrowed. She was stubbornly refusing to look at Lily, instead opting to stare intently at the television.

"Now now, don't be nasty, Petunia," Mrs Evans scolded, bustling into the room, carrying Lily's owl, Hercules. The tiny brown owl fluttered it's wings indignantly at the jostling, looking rather ruffled after the long car journey.

"It was fine, thank you," Lily said, stiffly, wondering why Petunia was so upset at her. It was unfortunate she couldn't go to Hogwarts, but it wasn't _Lily's_ fault. After all, she didn't choose to be a witch. How could she help it if Petunia didn't get her Hogwarts letter? She couldn't do anything about the fact Tuney was a muggle after all…

"Going to show us a magic trick then?" Petunia sniffed. "Go on then, turn me into a frog."

"Actually, we're not, supposed to do magic outside of school," Lily said softly, sitting on the armchair in front of the television. It wasn't really anything interesting, just a weather report promising a weekend of thunderstorms and rain. "In fact, the most exciting thing I've done with frogs is turn them into handkerchiefs and back."

Petunia seemed slightly happier at the knowledge that Lily wasn't some all-powerful sorcerer after her first year at Hogwarts. "So, no magic?"

"No magic."

Mrs Evans came in and smiled at Lily fondly. "Did you enjoy your classes, dear? I know you and Severus were especially excited about potions."

"Potions was amazing!" Lily said, lighting up, and Petunia scowled. "Professor Slughorn says I'm the best in our class, after Sev."

"That's wonderful dear! And that class – what was it called? Oh yes, transfiggyation"

 _"Transfiguration."_

"Yes, transfiguration sounds great. You could transfigure that ghastly cardigan aunt Sharon knitted for me into something nicer."

 _"Mum!_ That's a perfectly nice cardigan. And besides, I can't do magic outside of school, remember? Although I have been learning to knit with magic using a textbook I borrowed from the library-"

The two looked up as the living room door slammed shut, and they heard Petunia stomping up the stairs, sounding as if she would rather go without hearing Lily's stories from Hogwarts.

"Don't pay her any mind, dearie. It's a little upsetting for her to hear what you've been up to, that's all. She would have so liked to go to Hogwarts. So, tell me about this magic knitting?"

 **Year Two**

"So how was the freak school?"

Lily ignored Petunia and went to sit in her armchair. The train journey had tired her out and she wasn't in the mood for Petunia's snide remarks.

"How did your end of year exams go, dear?" Mrs Evans asked, handing Lily her trunk.

"Okay I think." Lily replied, stifling a yawn. "I studied loads so I can't have done that badly. The results should come via owl post at some point this summer."

"What do they even test you on anyway?" Petunia huffed. "It's not like you learn anything useful, like Maths, or Science, or English…"

"We do History. It's taught by a ghost." Lily said, skipping out the fact it was probably one of the most boring classes ever.

"A ghost? Ghosts don't exist. You're making that up."

"Oh yeah? And I supposed Witches and Wizards don't exist either."

"Girls that's enough! Lily, did you try out for that sports team you were interested in?"

"You mean the quidditch team? Ugh, I was going to, but Potter signed up, and you _know_ how I cant stand Potter."

"Potter, dear?"

"The one who I've mentioned in my letters? He's arrogant and his ego is huge! Honestly, he thinks he's God's gift to this world, the way he struts about the castle with that awful Sirius Black."

"The one who pulls all the pranks?"

"Yes!"

This time the two didn't notice Petunia leave for the kitchen in a huff to write a letter to her sensible, non-magical classmate who didn't know ghosts existed (and honestly, was better off for it).

 **Year Three**

"How was the freak school?"

"Stop calling it that Petunia!

"But that's exactly what it is! It's a school for freaks like you, Sev and the Potter boy you always complain about to learn how to make freakish things happen and brew potions under the moonlight that give you boils or turn people into frogs.

"How many times? We don't turn people into frogs!"

"But you could. If you wanted to."

"I'll turn you into a frog if you don't shut up about my school."

"Enough you two! Can't you just get along for once? Now, Lily, were you going to tell me what extra subjects you chose?"

Lily was about to answer when Petunuia stood up angrily. "Why do you always care more about Lily than me? You're always asking her about her freak school, but you never care about my regular, proper school. You know, the type of school that actually educates you properly, and teaches you _important_ things."

"Dear, Lily's been at boarding school since the Easter Holidays and I like talking with her about her school. It's very interesting."

" _Freak_ ," Petunia spat, and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

"I'm doing arithmancy, care of magical creatures and ancient runes in case you were still interested," Lily said, glancing at the door for a moment before running out after Petunia.

 **Year Four**

"How was the freak school?"

"Go _away_ Petunia."

 **Year Five**

"How was the freak school?"

"Good, not that you're actually interested." Lily turned to her mother. "And Marlene _and_ Professor Flitwick are convinced I aced the charms OWL! There was one answer I wasn't sure about but I went over it with him after class and it seemed like I'd get the marks!

"That's wonderful dear!"

"Oh yeah, can Marlene come to stay for a week or two at the end of the holidays?"

"Of course! She sounds like a lovely girl."

"You don't like _my_ friends," Petunia muttered under her breath.

"I don't dislike them, I just think some of them can be a little rude and pretentious," Mrs Evans reasoned.

It was just then an owl carrying a letter brandishing the Hogwarts seal tapped its beak on the glass.

"That was quick! Mrs Evans exclaimed, opening the window for the owl. The owl perched on top of the television and Lily took the letter.

"They don't normally come this early, it usually takes a couple of weeks.

"Mum, get the owl off the television!" Petunia whined, glaring at the poor creature, which shook its feathers all over the screen, then continued perching, looking rather pleased with itself.

Mrs Evans ignored her and turned to Lily. "What did you get, dear?"

Lily opened the letter slowly. "So the pass marks are O for outstanding, E for Exceeds Expectations and A for Acceptable. The fail marks are P, D and T.

"And what do those stand for?" Petunia asked, trying not to let it show that it actually kind of interested her.

"Poor, Dreadful and Troll."

"Troll?"

"Yes." Lily fumbled with the seal nervously before reading the letter and letting out a sigh of relief. "Three Os, six Es and an A for… Arithmancy. Never mind, the professor did warn us it was a hard class and most likely around half of us would fail. Oh, I knew I should have let Potter help me with my transfiguration… I bet he got an O.

"Potter? I thought you hated Potter."

"I do. He just happens to be rather good at transfiguration."

 **Year Six**

"How was the freak school?"

"Probably better than your muggle school. Hey, guess what happened this year mum?"

"What?"

"I started dating Potter!"

"But I thought you hated Potter!"

"I do. He just happens to be rather good at kissing. And err… growing out of his immaturity. And er, I don't think I hate him anymore."

"Good for you! He isn't being mean to Severus anymore is he?"

"Well… Sometimes. But not unprovoked. I'm not really friends with Severus anymore."

Petunia smiled. "Good. I always hated that kid."

"Petunia! Don't be rude. And I'm sorry to hear that Lily. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Great, let's play everyone listen to Lily's problems because _she's_ the one who's got it bad," Petunia huffed before running out the room.

 **Year Seven**

"Where's Petunia?"

"She's moved in with her boyfriend from University. His name's Vernon or something. But well done on your Hogwarts graduation! Petunia said she's sorry she could make it."

"Did she call it the 'freak school'?"

"Oh don't you worry about Petunia. You know she doesn't mean it."


	2. Snow

**House: Ravenclaw**

 **Year: 3**

 **Category: Standard**

 **Prompt: Snow**

 **Word Count: 787**

It was the second of December and, overnight, Hogwarts had been buried in about two feet of snow. Consequently, lessons had been cancelled for the day, much to the student's delight (and Hermione Granger's disappointment). It was perfect weather for snowball fights and butterbeer in the three broomsticks, so the school was significantly quieter than usual. Somewhere in Gryffindor Tower, if you listened close enough, a frantic pacing could be heard. This had been going on for about half an hour or so, and the already fraying carpet of the boy's dormitory was beginning to suffer.

"It'll be fine mate. Just, deep breaths okay? You two are basically already a thing.

There's no way she can say no," Harry Potter said to his best friend Ron Weasley. Ron paused his pacing for a moment to look at Harry with fearful eyes.

"You really think so?"

"I know so," Harry replied, grinning. "You are Hermione are made for each other, trust me."

Ron look at him skeptically, but then nodded to himself, as if mildly reassured. "Right. Okay. What's the worst that could happen, anyway?"

"That's the spirit!" said Harry, clapping him on the back, heartily. "Come on, she's probably in the library making up for all the schoolwork we'll be missing today or, y'know, studying or something."

Ron shook his head. "That girl is crazy. Studying! Exams are in like, ten weeks. We have ages."

The library, much like the rest of the school, wasn't very busy, so the boys had no trouble finding Hermione, who was located at the very back. Ron was as pale as a sheet, and by the time they reached Hermione, he looked as if he was about to be sick.

Hermione looked up as they reached her, and her eyes widened almost comically as she dropped her quill on the desk.

"Ronald! You're er - in the library. And you, Harry!" Her expression brightened for a moment, then her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You're not here to study, are you?"

Ron looked at his feet sheepishly, and Harry found himself doing the same. "Erm afraid not, Hermione-" Her face fell, "But I er- can I ask you a question?"

"Of course! Was it about that question on the potions exam about the stirring patterns? Because I have a really excellent way of remembering them, if you'll just let me show you…" She began rummaging around her bag before Ron stopped her.

"Actually, it wasn't that. I was going to ask… I was going to ask if you wanted to come to Hogsmeade with me?" The last part was mumbled so fast, Harry was surprised Hermione heard anything at all.

"Oh yes of course! I remembered not to plan any studying for tomorrow because I thought we could all go out tomorrow and enjoy the snow." She read their expressions anxiously as if waiting for response. When neither of them said anything, she wrung her hands nervously. "I mean, if that's okay, I thought we could all –"

She stopped for a moment, and stared at them. Harry was looking at Ron, and Ron was looking at the floor awkwardly, looking a lot like he wished the ground would swallow him up.

"Wait, just with you Ron?" Hermione asked carefully. "You mean… like a date?"

"Sort of like a date, yeah. I mean if that's okay with you? You don't have to obviously but like –"

Hermione shushed him. "Harry doesn't mind?"

Harry shook his head. Of course, his friends going to Hogsmeade without him wasn't exactly fun, but he was just glad they were about to actually get somewhere with their relationship. Finally.

"Then I'd love to," Hermione said, smiling.

The next day found Harry waving off Ron and Hermione as they left for Hogsmeade, their hands joined, both with huge smiles on their faces. The snow was still falling thick and fast, and the two looked more like a couple than ever. Harry walked some distance behind them so as to give them a little space, watching Hermione giggle and lean into Ron a little, something he'd observed her do months before, her crush on him painfully unsubtle. Of course, Ron had been oblivious, a seemingly recurring weakness when it came to Hermione.

After about an hour of Christmas shopping and another hour of sitting in the Three Broomsticks bored out of his mind, Harry heard the familiar voices of Ron and Hermione as they walked in the door, bright red and sopping wet from the snow, both of them positively beaming.

"I take it you had a good time?" Harry asked, and the two nodded, smiling fondly at each other.

He'd get used to this eventually.


	3. I don't want to go

**House: Ravenclaw**  
 **Year: 3**  
 **Category: Drabble**  
 **Prompt: [Speech] "I don't want to go."**  
 **Word Count: 343**

 **I Don't Want to Go**

The sound of the wall exploding replayed in Fred's mind for what seemed like forever. He remembered the physical act of laughing – his jaw seemed to be stuck in a perpetual grin, although he couldn't remember exactly what it was he had found so funny. His vision was black, and the explosion wouldn't stop repeating.

 _'Boom'._ It had been Percy, he was the one who told the joke. Percy telling a joke? That didn't seem right.

 _'Boom'._ Then what had happened? The wall just blew up into the corridor. He had been knocked off his feet and the others… What had happened to them? They had been hit by the blast too, hadn't they?

 _'Boom'_. What was happening to him?

It seemed like hours later when the ringing in his ears, the noise, finally came to an end. He could see a light at the end of the darkness, as if he was in a tunnel, and from the light, appeared a figure. The figure was cloaked, and the the strange light cast shadows over his pale face. He was only a boy, Fred realized.

"Hello Fred," the cloaked boy said, his voice a hushed whisper. "I'm afraid this news may come as a shock to you, but your body has passed away and you are no longer in the world of the living." He smiled. "Are you ready to come with me, Fred?"

The messenger held out his hand. That was when Fred saw the messenger's face clearly for the first time, unobscured by shadow, and he recoiled when he saw it was a reflection of himself.

"George?"

"Fred, this isn't George, this is merely a reflection of yourself," said the figure, sounding slightly sympathetic. "You won't see George anymore, not until he passes away too.

"I don't want to go." The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, but it was true. He didn't want to go into this world of the undead, he wanted to be with the living.

He wanted to see his brother again.


	4. Shooting Star

**House: Ravenclaw**  
 **Category: Standard**  
 **Prompt: Old Broomstick**  
 **Word Count: 823**

 **Shooting Star**

It wasn't the nicest day to be outside – it had rained the previous night, so the ground was wet and muddy and there was still a light drizzle of rain, along with the biting chill of the morning air. However, none of this appeared to faze Ginny Weasley, who had just stormed out of the Burrow in a huff and was sitting on a damp, rotting tree stump by the nearby lake. It was only ten o' clock but she had already managed to get into a fight with her brothers.

Why wasn't she allowed to play quidditch? When she'd asked to play, Fred had only laughed and told her that she was too young, and girls weren't good enough to fly broomsticks. She'd gotten angry then - how was she supposed to be good when she'd never been allowed to play before? – and accidentally turned Fred's hair blue. She thought it looked better that way, although unfortunately Fred didn't seem to think so, and he turned her skin green in retaliation. Her mum had told them both off, which was definitely unfair, as Ginny wasn't able to control her magic yet (why did they only get wands when they went to Hogwarts?) so she'd left the house.

It wasn't as if it was that horrible outside… she could stay there all day if she wanted to. Okay, who was she kidding – it was freezing, and, in her haste, she'd forgotten to grab her coat. Ginny sighed in frustration. She needed to stay outside long enough to make her point, but she was getting more bored and cold by the minute.

Having nothing else to do, she walked to the shed where the brooms were kept. Fred and George kept their brooms under heavy protection spells, making it almost impossible for anyone else to ride them, although rummaging through her dad's obscure muggle object collection always provided some form of entertainment. The hinges were rusting, and the door made a groaning sound as she pushed it open. Inside, Fred and George's broomsticks were proudly displayed, and Ginny could see some form of magical barrier around them, which made the air shimmer. She scowled at the broomsticks and decided to explore the mess of muggle objects which took up most of the room in their shed. There was a cube machine with a circular door, a long plastic tube and a crate of squishy yellow things in the shape of ducklings. Shaking her head at her father's odd occupation, she climbed past the pile of wires and reached towards the back of the shed. As she scanned the pile of objects, her eyes settled on a long wooden stick buried beneath the junk.

The end of the stick was engraved with the words 'Shooting Star'. Ginny squealed in excitement, recognizing it as one of the old models of broomsticks her brothers hated. She pulled it carefully from the pile, not wanting any of the twigs to get damaged. It was very old and some of the wood had worn away, but it didn't matter to Ginny. It was a broom. She could really fly.

Ginny took it outside the shed, a thrill of excitement coursing through her. She set the broom down on the ground by her tree stump, just like it had said in the Quidditch books she had stolen from Fred and George. She stuck her arm out.

"Up," she said confidently. Nothing happened.

"Up," Ginny commanded again, and the broom rolled over into a particularly muddy patch of grass.

"Stupid broom," She muttered, folding her arms and glaring at it as if that would make any difference. "Up".

The broom twitched a few times, before floating lazily up to her hand. She grabbed it impatiently, and it began vibrating and jerking violently. Was it supposed to do that? She swung her leg over the side and pushed off, just like she'd seen her brothers do. The broom shot into the air, and she let out a whoop of exhilaration. This was just like she'd imagined. She leaned from side to side, trying to get a good feel for the broom beneath her. It felt perfect. She leaned forward and shot into a dive towards the house. The broom hurtled downwards faster than she'd expected, so she hastily tried to pull up, but to no avail. The broom was gathering speed, and to her horror, it was getting closer and closer to the house. She swerved left, just missing a nasty crash into the kitchen window, then stuck her legs out so her toes dragged across the floor to brake.

Ginny shook her hair out of her face and grinned manically to herself. Now _that_ was amazing.

She didn't even care when her mother (having seen her near miss from the kitchen window) came running out, red in the face with anger. Riding the old broomstick had most definitely been worth it.


	5. Misty Morning

**House: Ravenclaw**  
 **Year: 3**  
 **Category: Standard**  
 **Prompt: [Weather] Misty**  
 **Word Count: 835**

 **Misty Morning**

It was a grey morning for Remus Lupin. Not only was the weather unpleasant, but Remus himself was in a rather melancholy state. He spooned a couple of sugar cubes into his tea, watching them splash on the surface, then disappear, one after the other. He dropped his teaspoon onto the saucer, the soft sound of metal on porcelain echoing around the otherwise quiet room.

Remus sat in this silence for as long as he could stand, before picking up his cup, letting it clink against the saucer and allowing the warm liquid to heat his shaking hands. He took a sip, relishing the feeling of the still scalding hot liquid trickling down his throat.

It was hard for him to believe Sirius was dead.

 _Sirius_. The thought of his best friend hit him unexpectedly and he had to put his cup down hastily before he dropped it. Sirius, once so full of life… Yet another one of his best friends, gone. And it wasn't just that. Sirius was _more_ to him than just a friend.

Remus stood up, abandoning his tea. He needed to get out. Out of his head, and out of this place.

The street was rather quiet, more than likely a consequence of the time of day; it was only eight in the morning after all. It was quite a misty day, and the air felt humid and cool. The silence of the deserted street seemed to settle around Remus until he felt he was drowning in it.

Sirius wouldn't have let the air remain quiet - he had always been obnoxiously loud, always had something to say to fill awkward silences. Remus shook his head of the thought determinedly. He had to stop torturing himself like this and dwelling on his late… lover. He sucked in a breath. People said losing a partner was dreadful, but Remus felt like his heart had been torn apart. He couldn't sleep in fear of the nightmares, he couldn't eat because it made him sick to his stomach, he couldn't function properly knowing Sirius was gone

Fate was cruel. Sirius had been taken from him for twelve years, then just when Remus had him again…

Remus felt something wet roll down his cheek and automatically looked up for a sign of rain. There was none, for it had stopped at least ten minutes before. But still the air was as foggy as ever, and the whole street seemed to be shrouded in mist. Remus wiped the tear from his cheek absentmindedly, wondering at the mystery of it. It looked almost… magical. He laughed a little to himself. No, not magical. Magic was full of darkness and the cause of his sorrow and despair. No, the mist had more of a breath-taking quality than magic. It was less unnatural, and it was _beautiful_.

He walked to the end of the street and turned the corner into the town square. A few Muggles were walking around, putting up marquees and gazebos for the Saturday market. Hearing the low hum of noise - a few voices and the slight chaos of unloading cars - calmed him a little, and the bubble of self-pity he'd created around him seemed to pop as the silence subsided.

Walking on past the market, Remus found it weird how the world could just… go on. No-one could know of the great loss he was suffering by just looking at him. It was his secret, one he kept bottled up inside him. He wondered if any of the muggles setting up the market were going through anything like this and enjoyed the thought that he would never know. Remus decided he liked the feeling that no-one knew what had happened to him. He hated being seen as someone to pity, someone whose friends were dead, someone who was afflicted with a life-ruining disease and someone who was ultimately doomed to a life of misery.

Sirius had made Remus a better person, a stronger person. Before, Remus had just been a werewolf who could barely make it through his transformations, someone who thought the world was out to get him. But Sirius had given him a sense of purpose, made him into a real person, with hopes and dreams, who just so happened to turn into a werewolf every month.

He supposed the strength he had found in himself through Sirius gave him the feeling that he could start over. Maybe losing Sirius _was_ the worst thing that would ever happen to him. He wouldn't get over him for a long time – after all, how could he? He had been in _love_ with Sirius and was ready to grow old with him, but he knew that now that was no longer a possibility, he knew this wouldn't have been what Sirius wanted.

With this new hope in his heart, he continued his walk into the mist. After all, Sirius would have wanted him to continue his life, because none of the other marauders could.


	6. A Little Secret

**House: Ravenclaw**  
 **Year: 3**  
 **Category: Drabble**  
 **Prompt: [Setting] Malfoy Manor**  
 **Word Count: 267**

 **A Little Secret**

It wasn't that Draco disliked his family. No, Draco reasoned with himself as he spun around the Manor's ballroom, his hands clasped around the waist of the girl he'd just met. That wasn't it at all. Maybe some of their opinions were a little questionable, and maybe he was opposed to a _few_ of their ideas - take this ball, for instance – but other than that, he was mostly proud to call himself a Malfoy.

The girl wasn't bad looking, and she seemed perfectly friendly, but Draco found it hard to believe that this was the person he was supposed to live the rest of his life with. Arranged marriage wasn't uncommon, and a few of his friends already had someone lined up for them. All in order to carry out the pure bloodline.

It was a bit messed up, really. After all, he had come a long way since his school days and he really didn't see anything wrong with marrying someone who wasn't a pureblood. But alas, tradition stood, and his father argued that this was the perfect way to find a nice, wealthy girl.

A nice _girl._ Draco stumbled a bit before pulling himself together and managing not to step on his partner's foot. The girl (God, he couldn't even remember her name) shot him a sour look.

"I thought you said you knew how to dance?"

Dance, yes, dance with the girl who had been chosen for him because that was the _family tradition._

It wasn't his family's fault, that was unfair.

After all, how could they possibly know that Draco was gay?


	7. Difference

**House: Ravenclaw**  
 **Year: 3**  
 **Category: Standard**  
 **Prompt: [Event] Joining the Death Eaters / Getting the Dark Mark**  
 **Word Count: 755**

 **Difference**

Regulus Black was nothing like his brother. Should someone who didn't know them compare the two, they may have said differently – in the looks department, the brothers were almost identical. Appearance aside, however, Regulus liked to think himself as dissimilar to Sirius as possible. This, of course was a good thing. Regulus was reminded a lot by his parents that he was the better child, and that Sirius was a bad example to him. He knew Sirius was on the road to being disowned anyway, so took his difference to Sirius as a good thing.

Regulus almost wasn't surprised when an owl came from Sirius announcing that he had been sorted into Gryffindor. The courage it must have taken to send that letter alone proved his worthiness. He sounded proud to be in a house which his parents considered 'for the foolish' and Regulus didn't get why it was preferable over Slytherin, which his parents deemed the best house. He listened as his mother recorded her voice to be put into the howler Sirius was to receive for being placed into the wrong house. Words like 'disgrace' and 'failure' drifted into the thin walls of Regulus' bedroom, and it was then he knew he would have to do all he could to get into Slytherin.

Nevertheless, he was the tiniest bit saddened when he saw Sirius' look of disappointment when he was sorted into Slytherin. Perhaps a part of him was disappointed too, after having had many secret discussions with Sirius over the holidays about the Gryffindor house, but that feeling was overruled by his determination the be the best son he could be. And although he would never admit it, he was rather afraid of what would happen if he wasn't.

Being related to Sirius, who was considered a disgrace in the Slytherin house, forced Regulus to have to constantly prove he was nothing like his older brother. He hated the fact that he had to sneer and insult his brother in the hallways to be accepted by his friends, his family and his house, but he'd got too far into to pull out without angering his parents. He wondered a couple of times whether it would be easier to just rebel like Sirius had – that way he would know what side he was on.

Regulus hated his brother for abandoning him, making him into the perfect brother, a position he couldn't pull out of. He felt guilty for these thoughts – it wasn't Sirius' fault their parents hated him and he was only doing what he could to keep himself safe.

If only he could do the same for his little brother, Regulus often thought bitterly.

Then it happened- Sirius abandoned Regulus completely. Yes, it wasn't his fault he was disowned, but Regulus still wanted to scream at him for leaving him so alone in a house with no choices.

Regulus was initiated when he was sixteen years old. When the time came, he wished more than ever he had rebelled against his family's ideals like Sirius had done. Much like Sirius, he hated the thought of bowing down to someone, but he didn't want to face the consequences if he refused. The Dark Lord had come to Grimmauld Place in person and brought all the other death eaters with him. His parents looked at him proudly when he made the vow to stay loyal, and jeered with the others when he cried out in pain as the dark mark was burned into his pale skin. Regulus had never felt more alone and cried for himself and for his brother that night, his sobs muffled by his pillow, his arm in agony.

He sent an owl to Sirius detailing what had happened that day, expecting some comfort, or at the very least, pity.

The owl was returned unopened.

Regulus broke the vow to his parents and the Dark Lord when he was eighteen. He had figured out the Dark Lord's secret and wanted to prove he was less than a pawn. The boat ride to the middle of the black lake filled with inferi was one of the longest journeys he'd ever taken. Although he was alone, this time, going against everything his parents stood for gave him hope. At that moment he felt as if he wasn't very different from Sirius at all, despite what his parents thought. Maybe he was more Gryffindor than he'd initially thought.

Regulus Black died in pain and alone aged eighteen.

He hoped he made his brother proud.


	8. Scars

**House: Ravenclaw**  
 **Year: 3**  
 **Category: Short**  
 **Prompt: Changing your appearance**  
 **Word Count: 1643**

Scars

Remus Lupin hated his scars. Scars, most people said, told a story. Scars, they told him, showed the world what you'd been through. Scars for Remus though, were different. They were a constant reminder that he would never fit in, that he could only ever pretend to be normal. Remus' scars were to show others that was dangerous, and consequently something to be ashamed of. For the most part, he kept them out of sight, always wearing long sleeves and changed behind the closed curtains of his four-poster. He could just as easily make up some story about how they came about, especially now his friends knew about his condition (after all, they were the hardest people to lie to), but there was something so ugly about the way they looked that Remus just wanted to keep them out of sight.

Surprisingly enough, the idea that came to Remus in potions class was not one he'd had before.

He had been sitting there, bored out of his mind (Sirius was the expert at potions and Remus did his best to interfere as little as possible) when the idea struck him to get rid of his scars. Of course, he had used a temporary concealing charm on the scars on his face and neck before – sometimes Remus liked the questions they provoked to be avoided. A more permanent solution however, had just never crossed his mind. There were books upon books of potions in the library, each one promising fantastic results in your appearance, and Remus found it hard to believe that there wasn't at least one potion to get rid of scars.

Perhaps it had been Sirius' insistence that there was nothing wrong with the scars on his body that stopped him even thinking briefly about getting rid of his them completely, but now the idea had been planted firmly in his mind, Remus stubbornly decided that this was possibly the best idea he'd ever had.

"Remus?" A voice in his ear said, bringing him back to the present. "Earth to Remus?"

Sirius had finished a potion and was bottling it up to hand it in to Professor Slughorn. It was an appearance-changing potion – not a concealment potion, but one to change the colour of your hair. This was, with no doubt, where Remus' decidedly genius (and no longer original) idea came from. Remus chuckled amusedly as Sirius proudly dipped his head in the remaining batch and came up with a shit-eating grin and dripping, neon pink hair. He ducked as Sirius, with a handful of the potion tried to smear it on his hair.

"Finally, I got you attention," the darker-haired boy huffed. He held his hand out. "I need to hand in the evaluation." Remus handed him the evaluation which he'd finished ten minutes into the lesson, and allowed his mind to drift onto more important things.

.

"I need help with a potion."

Sirius looked up from his textbook, surprised. Remus rarely ever asked for help (although rarely turned it down when it was offered) and had recently never missed an opportunity to show people (namely Sirius) that he was a perfectly capable, independent person who could do things for himself thank you very much. But there he was, sitting looked rather frustrated, with his textbook on his lap glaring at the pages and furiously scribbling something out.

"What potion? I didn't think we were set any practical tasks for homework."

"We weren't. This is, uh, an extra project Slughorn asked me to work on to improve my potion skills – " The tips of Remus' ears turned pink so Sirius knew he was lying, though didn't comment. " – and it's more advanced than I initially thought and I think I'll need an extra pair of hands."

"So what potion is it?" Sirius repeated himself, and Remus shifted, as though uncomfortable. Definitely lying then. He internally shrugged – it wasn't as if Remus would make anything illegal, it was probably just something embarrassing, like a love potion or something.

"Doesn't matter. It's not very interesting, just something Slughorn gave me for the practical side of it, not the results." Remus gave his best impression of Sirius' signature puppy eye look.

"I don't know, Remus, if it's something Slughorn asked you to do, he probably meant for you to do it alone."

"Pleeease, Sirius," Remus begged, looking at him imploringly. That was enough to break Sirius' resolve (although in reality he'd never really intended to decline Remus' plea).

A warm pair of arms wrapped themselves firmly around his middle. "Thanks Sirius, Remus said into his shoulder and Sirius sighed. It wasn't like he could ever find it in him to say no to Remus.

.

Remus had already started the potion when Sirius came down to the dungeons, and was leaning over the cauldron with his sleeves rolled up and hair mussed, peering at his potion with an air of concern. The globby orange looking potion made a noise somewhat similar to a hiss, then spat, sending small droplets of the liquid over the side and onto the desk.

"I don't think I've done it right," Remus muttered miserably, addressing Sirius for the first time, but without turning around. He then proceeded to produce his wand and vanish the substance.

"It was meant to be pale orange and have a thin consistency at this point, I think," he said in annoyance flicking through pages of instructions and notes.

Sirius held out his hand. "Here, let me look." He sighed when he realized someone (most likely Remus) had got rid of the name and description of the potion, leaving just the instructions. Sirius read through them, making mental notes to himself of the ingredients so he could try to figure out what Remus was brewing – Fluxweed, Boomslang skin and Fairy wings all seemed out of place in a common potion, so it had to be something he hadn't made before. He stored the

names of the ingredients in his mind to figure out later and put all his focus into helping Remus.

He skimmed over the method to find things that would mess with the consistency of a potion.

"You either stirred it the wrong way or… It's on the wrong temperature." Remus snatched the instructions out of his hands and glanced at the paper before outing his head in his hands.

"It was supposed to be anti-clockwise. I didn't even check, just assumed. Okay, second time lucky – hopefully it'll be easier with you anyway. You're way better at this than me."

Working with Remus was far easier than Sirius had expected it to be. Remus wasn't half as bad as he'd made himself out to be, and Sirius actually found the task quite relaxing and enjoyable. Remus made the potion, while Sirius read out instructions handed him ingredients and gave advice when necessary.

They were just over halfway done when Sirius made the connection with the unusual ingredients. Fluxweed and Boomslang skin were used in Polyjuice Potion (something he and James had tried in their third year but with undesirable results) and Fairy wings were used for many beautification potions. It was those ingredients combined with a rather familiar but uncommon method that made Sirius realize Remus was brewing some sort of potion to alter his appearance.

This seemed strange to Sirius, and he wondered why someone as attractive as Remus could possibly want to change the way they looked. Perhaps he wanted to make himself more desirable to girls? Remus had never had a girlfriend, but that didn't mean he wasn't attractive – just oblivious to the obvious flirting he was subjected to on a daily basis. He sighed, and got on with helping Remus, although he knew he definitely had to ask before Remus took the potion.

After all, Remus certainly didn't need to change his appearance and Sirius had to make sure he knew that before Remus did something he'd regret.

It wasn't too long after that Remus finally took the heating spell off his cauldron, and stepped back to admire the concoction, his face flustered but satisfied. He scooped some of the cool, yellow liquid out and filled two bottles which he slipped into his pocket, before vanishing the rest.

"Thank you," he grinned, turning to Sirius and engulfing him in a hug. "I couldn't have done it without you.

The two walked back to Gryffindor tower, exchanging conversation, before Sirius cut Remus off mid-sentence.

"Remus, what's that potion for?" He asked, then without waiting for an answer blurted out quickly, "I know you're going to use it for yourself – it's not for Slughorn, I can tell when you're lying Remus."

His question was met with silence and a guilty look.

Sirius rambled on. "I know it's an appearance potion, I worked that much out, it's just – why would you want to change your appearance? You're so – so attractive already and I – well, that came out weird, but want I'm trying to say –"

"It's a potion to get rid of my scars," Remus said, quietly, and Sirius stopped – he hadn't actually expected to get an answer out of him.

"Remus, there's nothing wrong with your scars," Sirius murmured, as he brought up a hand to caress Remus' cheek, his hand deliberately brushing over the scar that laid across his face there. Remus flinched. "You're beautiful, with or without your scars. I know you hate them and that's why I'm not going to tell you that you can't take the potion – you can, of course, it's your choice. But to me Remus, they're not a reminder of the wolf. They're a reminder of how brave you are despite how much you've suffered. I don't mind if you decide to take the potion. It's your choice, Remus, I think you'd look perfect either way."

They walked back to the tower in a comfortable silence.

That night Remus threw the potion away.


	9. Betrayal

**House: Ravenclaw**  
 **Year: 3**  
 **Category: Drabble**  
 **Prompt: [Speech] "I used to think you were my best friend,"**  
 **Word Count: 412**

 **Betrayal**

"How could you have done this?"

I look up, startled, trying to blink away the soreness in my eyes – a combination of no sleep and crying because. Let's face it, I'd fucked up. James had burst into the room, his face contorted in rage and I had stood up abruptly, not wanting to face his wrath, but knowing I deserve it.

"Is Snape – what happened? Is he – is he okay?"

James looks at me in disgust. "No thanks to you. But yes, Snape is okay thank god."

"And Remus?" My heart sinks as James' mouth tightens. "From what I saw when I went down… No, Sirius, he's not. The wolf smelled us, both me and Snape, but without actually being able to get to us, the wolf turned on himself. Remus is hurt. Badly."

"Shit, James, I –" a horrible thought found place in my mind, and I felt bile rise up in his throat.

"He, he isn't…" Sirius gulped. "He going to be okay though isn't he?"

James hesitates and I blanch.

"Yes." Relief floods me. I know I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened to Remus because of me. "He's in a bad way though."

James sighs heavily, and stares at me, his eyes frosty. "I just don't understand why – Remus could have died Sirius! Or – or Snape could have died, and you know what they do to werewolves who kill people don't you? The ministry doesn't care that they have no control over their bodies, Sirius, he would have been EXECUTED." The last word comes out as a shout and I hide my face in my hands my body shaking. The only thing I can think about is James' voice over and over in my head –

 _"Remus could have died."_

 _"Remus could have died."_

Remus could have _died_ and it would have been all my fault.

"Fucking look at me Sirius, it's the least you could do." I raise my head from my arms, my breath shaky. "I thought you loved him, Sirius, I don't know how you could just betray him like that." He took a deep breath. "I used to think you were my best friend." I could feel tears coming to my eyes but I didn't try to blink them away. I knew what was coming.

"I was wrong. You're not my friend." Hurt clouded his eyes and he turned away from me.

"Get out. I can't stand the sight of you."


	10. The Betting Game

**House: Ravenclaw  
** **Category: Standard  
Year: 3  
** **Prompt: [Negative] Professor Dumbledore/Professor Sprout  
** **Word Count: 887**

 **The Betting Game**

It was rather odd, Dumbledore thought, the way Pomona Sprout was looking at him from across the Head's table. Something about that gaze seemed sly, almost as if she was up to something. He gazed back expectantly, and, pushing his glasses up his nose, raised a thin eyebrow questioningly.

Professor Sprout, having been caught out, momentarily turned a deep shade of pink, before standing up decidedly. Pushing her plate away, she swept out the hall, but not before passing Dumbledore's table, pausing slightly, and dropping a note into his tomato soup.

Using his spoon, he fished it out, distastefully. Fortunately, it had landed word-side up so he was able to read it without any further hassle.

The parchment had only four words.

 _'I propose a bet.'_

Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose dejectedly and sighed. Pomona and her _bets_. He had been doing this for long enough to know one thing. Pomona _never lost._ He didn't want to lose his money, but on the other hand, Pomona would never let him live it down if he declined.

That evening, when Dumbledore got up to get his mug of hot chocolate with the marshmallows and whipped cream, he paused outside Pomona's room, then knocked quite loudly.

"Oh hello Albus!" the professor said, after sticking her head around the door. "Why don't you come in? Cup of tea?"

"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" Dumbledore said mildly. "Besides, I have my hot chocolate here thank you."

He held up his mug before returning to the matter at hand.

"So, another bet, Pomona."

"Indeed, Albus. I suppose you're here to discuss the terms?"

"You know me too well." He sighed, knowing full well what he'd got himself into.

"James Potter and Lily Evans."

"Pomona!"

"What? You know as well as I do that it's bound to happen at some point!"

"As does the rest of the teaching staff."

"I know. Flitwick's just placed his." She pulled out a leather-bound pocket book. "He thinks it'll be just after Valentine's Day."

Dumbledore pondered for a moment. "No, it'll be later than that I reckon."

"Aha! So you _do_ want to bet."

"I never said I didn't! It just seems unwise to bet over students' dating lives."

"So you're going to pull out? I didn't expect the great Albus Dumbledore to be a coward." Pomona stared him down proudly.

Dumbledore looked at her icily. "Of course I'm not!"

"So…"

"Not this Valentine's day. Just after the next one, before the end of February."

"Great." The Professor smiled sweetly. "And how much can I put you down for?"

"Fifty galleons."

Pomona's eyes lit up. "Well, it's on, I guess!" She held out her hand for Dumbledore to shake, but he ignored it and walked away sipping his hot chocolate.

Oh it was _on_.

.

Well over a year later and things were looking good. Well, not in general – after all there was a war to be fought but that's another story. Dumbledore and Professor Sprout were the only two left in the bet, and the two of them had become very competitive. To make matters even more tense, Pomona had _conveniently_ betted just before Valentine's day. Dumbledore was sure she'd done it out of spite, to rub it in his face that he _never_ won bets.

James and Lily were showing every sign of getting together. They'd become close friends at the beginning of their seventh year, and it was clear to see they both adored each other.

Now though, it was time to play the waiting game. January passed quicker than usual,

Dumbledore thought, and all too soon, it was almost time. Pomona had bet on any time between the 1st and the 13th of February, as Dumbledore had said including an actual Holiday was an unfair advantage.

It was nerve-wracking to sit through the first half of February watching the two get closer (Pomona tried her level best to try and push the two together), but, after an agonizingly slow wait came Valentine's day.

If the two could just hold off for one day longer…

And hold off they did. Dumbledore almost whooped out loud when Lily sheepishly gave James a kiss good morning at breakfast on the 15th February, to much surprise from their friends.

He turned to Sprout good-naturedly, unable to fight off the grin on his face.

"Well, Pomona, it seems to me I have won."

"Is that so?" the sly look was back. "Well it seems to me you'd better fact check."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, how do you know for sure they got together today? It could have been last night, or, you know," she smiled widely. "Some time _before_ February."

Dumbledore stood up swiftly, nearly knocking over a teapot and hurried down to the Gryffindor table."

"My! Young James and Lily, what a pleasant surprise. It seems congratulations are in order.

However, if you don't mind, what is the exact date the two of you got together?

The two looked at each other in surprise, but Lily answered. "Uh… the night before Valentines day I think? But Professor why –," she looked at him in surprise as he stalked towards the head table where Professor Sprout seemed to be finding something very funny.

Dumbledore sat down with his head in his hands.

He was never betting with Pomona Sprout again.


	11. The Wrong House

**House: Ravenclaw**  
 **Year: 3**  
 **Category: Standard**  
 **Prompt: [Event] Being re-sorted / Requesting a re-sorting**  
 **Word Count: 887**

 **The Wrong House**

"Slytherin!"

Albus sat frozen on the stool, his hands gripping the sides, hard. No-one was clapping, only staring because Merlin, Harry Potter's kid was in Slytherin!

Shit, this was not how this was supposed to happen. The situation he'd talked to his dad about was purely hypothetical. He wanted to be in Gryffindor. James was in Gryffindor! James loved Gryffindor, his walls were painted red and gold, and all he talked about was how cool his school house was. He looked over to the Gryffindor table nervously, and it was then he realized James was actually one of the few people clapping for him – he and his friends had actually stood up in an attempt to get the other students to join in. He looked over to the Slytherin table where his new friend Scorpius was cheering along with the rest of Slytherin house.

Maybe this wouldn't be too bad.

He slid off the stool and risked a glance at the head table, where the Headmistress was clapping determinedly, the other teachers following her lead, a look of curious surprise on their faces.

Albus wanted to yell that he wasn't his dad – he was his own person and why did these expectations follow him around wherever he went? The 'we expect great things from you' speech from Ollivander at the wand shop, and the constant looks of awe from people he'd never met.

How was he supposed to live up to being a hero?

Well, fuck them. Albus walked to the Slytherin table and sat down next to Scorpius in a dignified manner, knowing every eye in the great hall was on him.

"Just ignore them," Scorpius whispered as McGonagall announced the next person, the witch in question tripping on the stairs, obviously confused at the whispers being passed around the hall.

And Albus did ignore them. Well, he tried, for a bit. That week, Scorpius was amazing, shooting nasty glances at anyone who looked at them too long, as if to say, yes he's in Slytherin – so what? Albus was grateful, although the looks secretly bothered him.

It took a week before he Albus snapped. If people didn't think he belonged in the Slytherin house, then he'd give them what they wanted.

.

"So, Mr Potter, what is it I can do for you?" the Headmistress asked, peering over the top of her glasses."

The office was not quite how Albus had imagined. It seemed a lot smaller and cosier than the grand image his dad had had painted it out to be. Sure, it was pretty impressive, with all the magical trinkets on the shelves and the paintings lining the walls, but Albus had been quite nervous to enter and seeing the size of the room calmed him a little.

"Why don't you take a seat?" McGonagall asked, kindly. "Now what is it that's troubling you?"

Albus didn't know where to begin.

"I –" he faltered. "I don't think... Is it possible to get resorted?"

McGonagall let out a short chuckle, before shaking her head. "I'm afraid not, Mr Potter. At least, I don't think it's possible. It's certainly never been attempted before."

Albus let out a huff. "But that's not fair! The sorting hat must have made a mistake or something and now I have to suffer the consequences."

McGonagall sighed, although seemed slightly amused at his dramatics

"Would you like a biscuit, Mr Potter?"

The headmistress had picked up a bright yellow tin from her desk and was holding it out to Albus, who looked at them in confusion, before picking out a custard cream.

"Thank you? But if this is a distraction, it's not going to work."

The headmistress chuckled again. "No, I suppose it won't. Why is it that you want a resorting, Mr Potter?"

"I don't belong in Slytherin," Albus stated confidently. "None of my family were in Slytherin."

"And? We've had twins in separate houses before, there's nothing wrong with that."

"I just feel like… Like I'm missing out, professor. They all grew up in Gryffindor tower, and their best memories were made being in such a great house."

Albus pretended not to see the glimmer of pride on the Headmistress' face at these words.

"But you have friends in Slytherin, do you not?" Albus nodded meekly. "Well, I daresay, you'll make some memories of your own Mr Potter. And, well, if it makes any difference, may I remind you that students can visit their friends in other houses should they make them."

Albus sighed. "I suppose. But… well everyone expected me to be in Gryffindor and be more like my dad, so I guess I just feel like I'm letting them down."

"You don't owe them anything, Mr Potter. Be true to yourself and you can shine in Slytherin.

Besides, I know a certain Mr Malfoy would be rather disappointed if you left him on his own don't you think?"

Albus said nothing but secretly agreed. He didn't think Scorpius would forgive him if Albus left him on his own.

"Well that's settled," McGonagall said, firmly.

"I suppose so," Albus said, and turned to leave.

"Mr Potter?"

"Yes?"

"If you have anything you wish to discuss with me, my office is open to you."

Albus nodded and walked out with a sigh. He was going to see Scorpius.


End file.
